


The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

by wildlingoftarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic gun violence, but i know barely anything about that show so take it with a grain of salt, detective!Brienne, devil!Jaime, side character death, this is technically a lucifer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlingoftarth/pseuds/wildlingoftarth
Summary: Jaime prided himself on his club being a den of hedonism, excess, and vice - he was the son of the Devil, after all, and what could be more on-brand?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 28
Kudos: 83
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020





	The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilikeblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeblue/gifts).



> Title from the [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/7hlA8gMMz6jSp91Twsnuv3) of the same name by Colter Wall.
> 
> This idea has been knocking around in my head for a long time but I’ve never gotten it down on paper, so I was thrilled when ilikeblue prompted “Anything magic or mythical (angels/demons, gods, ghosts, really I’m not picky)”. It is technically a Lucifer AU, but I’ve only seen a handful of episodes of that show so sorry if I got something (or a lot of somethings) wrong. I also know nothing about detective/cop stuff, so just go with it.
> 
> Enjoy, ILB!
> 
> CW for a side character death and non-graphic gun violence.

Jaime leaned over the railing of the VIP balcony and surveyed his domain. His nightclub, Gold Lion, was packed as per usual with King's Landing's rich, famous, and beautiful. Men in dark suits and women in short, shiny dresses lounged in black leather booths and packed the dance floor, gyrating under the flashing multicolored lights. Patrons spent entirely too much on aged whiskey and bottles of champagne, competing to see who could spend their money the most ostentatiously. Couples snuck off to one of the many shadowy corners, putting their hands and mouths and sometimes more to use. 

Jaime prided himself on his club being a den of hedonism, excess, and vice - he was the son of the Devil, after all, and what could be more on-brand? Jaime had only been on Earth for 30 years, compared to the millennia he’d spent in Hell torturing sinners and evil souls, but he was more fulfilled by his work here than any he’d ever done for his father. That his reprieve to Earth was only supposed to have been temporary was still a source of tension, to put it mildly, between Jaime and his family, who frequently tried and failed to get him to come back to Hell and take his rightful place as ruler of the underworld. He wasn’t sure how many times he would have to tell them he was never going back before they would stop, but he had to admit his father’s various attempts to lure him back were amusing. 

Jaime scanned the club with a satisfied smile, making sure there were no bored faces in the crowd. A disturbance at the edge of the dance floor caught his attention - two men yelled and pointed in each other’s faces, shoving and tussling, looking seconds away from a full-blown fight. Jaime allowed basically anything in his club, but fighting was too much of a mood-killer to be permitted. He watched his bouncer, Bronn, making his way through the crowd to break it up, but one of the men threw an elbow when Bronn came up behind him, causing the bouncer to crumple to the floor and hold his profusely-bleeding nose. 

Jaime moved quickly from his perch down to the main floor, the crowd recognizing his distinct golden hair and parting easily as he walked up to the fighting men. He laid his hands firmly on their shoulders. “Gentlemen,” he said in the specific pitch he’d perfected in his time on Earth, the pitch that made people do whatever he wanted them to, and the men dropped their hands to their sides and froze. “You don’t want to fight. You actually want to buy a round of tequila shots for everyone in this club, and then you want to go home.” The men looked at each other, a little dazed, and nodded, then made their way to the bar where they maxed out their credit cards buying shots. Jaime observed them until they walked out the door, then went in the back to check on Bronn. 

The bouncer was in the stock room holding a rag to his nose, huffing and swearing and threatening to quit. Jaime knew he was just blustering - after all, he’d been Jaime’s soldier, assistant, and enforcer in Hell for millennia before accompanying Jaime to Earth and helping him open the club. Bronn had chafed under Jaime’s father’s rule and jumped at the chance for a visit to Earth, finding his physical and intellectual superiority to humans much to his liking.

“Losing your touch, Bronn?” Jaime teased when the man’s nose had stopped bleeding. “You should have seen that elbow coming.”

Bronn grunted. “Been around these humans for too long. Senses are dull.”

“Is it that, or is it all the whiskey?” Jaime slapped Bronn’s shoulder. “Be sharp out there. Can’t have fights ruining our patrons’ good times.”

Bronn grunted again and ambled with Jaime back out to the floor. Jaime spotted a familiar small brunette leaning over the bar and smiled. He walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around and shrieked, throwing her arms around him. “Jaime!”

Jaime held her elbows and leaned back to look at her. “Pia. You look marvelous, as always. I heard your song on the radio yesterday!”

Pia smiled and blushed prettily. “I owe it all to you. That manager you set me up with is really invested in my career.”

“You’re the one with the talent. I’m just the middleman.” Jaime grinned, remembering when he’d first met her - he’d been closing up for the night when he heard a commotion in the alley outside the club. He went to investigate and came upon Pia being attacked by two men, who he quickly dispatched, leaving Pia clutching him and sobbing her thanks. He’d driven her home and slowly found out more about her - it turned out she’d just been let go from her receptionist job at a record company, and Jaime needed a new waitress. 

She was the best employee he’d ever had, sweet and smart and dependable, but when he found out about her aspiration to be a singer, he’d used his persuasive powers to secure her a manager and reluctantly let her go to pursue her dream. Even now, with her star on the rise, she made sure to visit regularly to check in on Jaime and the club. Although Jaime held affection for Bronn and Peck in his own way, Pia was the closest thing he had to a true friend. 

He left her at the bar chatting with Peck and went back to observing the happenings in the club, hoping she’d come to say goodbye before she left but not noticing her slipping out the side door a little while later.

He found it strange when he came out of the club at nearly 4 a.m. after locking up and saw Pia’s car still in the lot, so he approached it and looked inside.

Pia’s body was contorted in the front seat with red and black bruises around her neck, her eyes wide open and unseeing.

At that moment, Jaime swore to unleash the fiery vengeance of Hell on whoever had taken her from him. 

***

The KLPD showed up less than an hour after Jaime called, which was still too long as far as Jaime was concerned. They moved him out of the way while they took photos and inspected the crime scene, asking him about how he'd found her and if he'd seen anything suspicious. He answered their questions and gave them his card so someone could contact him tomorrow, all the while conjuring up the vilest and most painful tortures he could think of to inflict upon her killer when he found them before they did. 

The next morning he was rudely startled awake by his door slamming open and a woman striding through it, a sneer on her beautiful face as she took in her surroundings. 

Jaime groaned and covered his face with his hands as the familiar brimstone scent filled his nostrils. “Cersei. How lovely of you to stop by for this unannounced visit. Dad must be desperate to send you. How long has it been? Twenty Earth years? You haven’t aged a day, which I guess is to be expected, since you’re immortal and everything…”

“Shut up, brother,” Cersei interrupted, her golden hair swinging in her frustration. She crossed her arms in front of her. “Your return to the underworld has been requested.”

Jaime sat up and scratched his fingernails through the stubble on his jaw. “Big surprise. He only sends someone every few years or so, and I tell them the same thing every time: I am never going back. He can send all the emissaries he wants, the answer is always going to be no.”

“Jaime. Father will not accept no for an answer for much longer. He will come retrieve you himself. And do you know what happens when the Devil leaves Hell?”

Jaime tapped his chin and looked up. “Hmm, don’t know, don’t care. I owe father nothing.”

With a _snap_ and a gust of air, Cersei unfurled a pair of black feathered wings and dug one of her sharp talons underneath Jaime’s chin. “What _happens_ is all those poor souls that you had a part in torturing for millennia escape too. And where do you think they’ll go?” 

Jaime narrowed his eyes, but refused to give her the reaction she sought. “Aren’t you bored? The same thing for millennia upon millennia, punishing the souls of deceased sinners for all eternity, blah blah blah...doesn’t it get old?”

“That is what we were made for, Jaime. Not fucking around on Earth meddling in stupid little humans’ stupid little lives.”

“I happen to like my stupid little humans,” he retorted, glancing over at his phone when it began to ring. 

“We are not done here,” Cersei warned.

“Oh, I think we are,” he said even as a thin stream of blood trickled down his chin. “Give Dad my regards.” He gave her an exaggerated apologetic smile before picking up the phone. Cersei contracted her wings with a huff and stormed out, slamming the door on her way. 

“Mr. Lannister,” said the voice on the other end of the phone, feminine but with an intriguing low timbre. “This is Detective Brienne Tarth with King’s Landing PD. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about Pia Hill’s murder.”

The rage from last night threatened to flood back in, but he pushed it down and concentrated on his plan. Even though his powers worked on all genders, women were especially susceptible, so he was pleased with this development. 

"I would love to, Detective Tarth, but do you think we could do this in person? I just…" Jaime affected a wobble in his voice. "I really don't want to be alone right now."

He thought he heard Detective Tarth sigh, but then she said, "Of course. Come down to the station any time today. Ask for me."

"Will do," he replied, while scintillating images of creative torture scenarios swirled about in his head. 

***

Jaime walked into the KLPD station a short while later and stopped at reception. The pretty young woman behind the desk looked up at him and gave him a familiar soft smile and glassy-eyed gaze. He returned her smile and leaned over the desk. “I’m here to see Brienne Tarth.”

The woman’s face twisted in shock for a split second, then smoothed back over into a pleasant facade. “Sure. Who should I tell her is here?”

“Jaime Lannister.”

She paused with the phone halfway to her ear. “Oh, you own the Gold Lion! My friends and I love that place.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” he said smoothly. “Find me the next time you’re there. I’ll buy you a drink.” He winked, and she practically melted into her office chair before collecting herself to call the detective. 

Jaime picked up an outdated magazine and sat in one of the hard plastic reception chairs to wait for her, glancing over every time a door opened. He turned his eyes back to his magazine after he saw a huge blond man come through the door, but was forced to look up when the man stopped directly in front of him.

“Mr. Lannister?” The voice from the other end of the phone came out of the man’s body, which upon further inspection was not a man at all, but an unusually large, muscular woman.

Jaime stood, coming not quite eye-to-eye with the woman. Set into her aggressively plain face were eyes the most vivid shade of blue he’d ever seen. “Detective Tarth, I presume?” he said in his most charming voice.

She nodded. “Come with me please.” The woman gestured over her shoulder brusquely, and Jaime followed, a bit perplexed at the reaction (or lack thereof) he’d gotten from her. 

Detective Tarth folded her imposing mass behind a small desk and invited him to sit in a chair across from it. She crossed her arms and leaned over the desk, fixing Jaime with a piercing stare that made him feel slightly unnerved. 

“Mr. Lannister, according to the police reports, you were the one who found Ms. Hill in her car?”

“Yes. I’d talked to her earlier in the night inside the club, and then I didn’t see her again, so I figured she left. After I locked up for the night, I came out and saw her car still in the parking lot, so I looked inside and...” Jaime trailed off, the memory of seeing Pia like that bringing up unpleasant feelings he wasn’t accustomed to. 

Detective Tarth nodded and continued. “Did you see anything else suspicious? Any shady people or strange activities?”

Jaime suppressed a laugh. “You’ve obviously never been to my club. Shady people and strange activities are a regular Tuesday night.”

Tarth looked unimpressed, and Jaime cleared his throat. “But you’re welcome to any security camera footage or...anything you need.”

“Thank you,” she said as she wrote something down. “How did you know Ms. Hill?”

“She was a former employee, then a friend. I helped her break into the music business.”

Tarth put her pen down and looked directly at Jaime. “Did you ever have a romantic relationship with Ms. Hill?”

Pia had obviously had a crush on Jaime, as most women and a good number of men did, but he felt too protective of her and their friendship to jeopardize it. “No. She was just a friend.”

“Do you know anything about her romantic life?”

Jaime shook his head. “She never talked about anyone. She seemed too focused on her music.”

“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?”

While Jaime did not, in fact, know who would want to hurt her, he had an idea of where to start, but if he was going to get to the killer first, he needed to keep that information close to the vest. 

“Pia was the sweetest young woman I’ve ever met, and she was just starting to get really successful. I have no idea who’d want to hurt her.”

Detective Tarth’s face softened a bit, her bright eyes belying some feeling behind her gruff exterior. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Lannister. Really. I’m going to do everything I can to find whoever did this and bring them to justice.”

Although something in him said she was telling the truth, he didn’t trust that her idea of justice was the same as his. 

The detective finished scribbling something down in her notepad and flipped it shut. “Thank you, Mr. Lannister. That will be all. I’ll contact you if I need any further information.”

“Wait,” he said, leaning over and laying his hand on her forearm, momentarily startled by the hardness of the muscles under her plain white shirtsleeve. “You want to keep me informed of your investigation and share any new information you find with me,” he said in his persuasive pitch. 

Tarth looked down at his hand atop her arm, then shook it away and frowned. “I most certainly do not. And why are you talking like that?”

Jaime just sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. The woman seemed completely unaffected by his charms, which was a new development indeed. He furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

The detective lowered her voice to an exaggerated rumble. “ _You want to keep me informed of your investigation_.”

Jaime, taken aback, retorted, “First of all, that is not what I sound like, and second of all...why didn’t that work?” The last part was whispered more to himself. 

Tarth scoffed. “That usually works? Gods, people are such suckers for a pretty face.”

“Oh, so you _do_ think I’m pretty.”

The detective stared at Jaime, unamused. “Look, Mr. Lannister, I understand that you are invested in this, but you need to leave it up to me. Whoever did this is very dangerous, and they are still out there.”

 _Not as dangerous as me_ , Jaime wanted to say, but instead he said, “You know, I’m very well-connected in King’s Landing. Especially to the, shall we say, seedier side of the population? I can help you.”

Tarth raised her eyebrow, but didn’t kick him out immediately, so he pressed his advantage.

“I also have a...unique ability to make people do what I want. All except you, it seems.”

She simply cocked her head and waited.

“Watch this.” Jaime turned to her nearest coworker, a plain brown-haired man, and gestured him over. “Hello,” he looked at the man’s nametag, “Detective Hunt.” He wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist and said, in the pitch that had mysteriously not affected Tarth earlier, “You want to dump that cup of coffee out on your shoes.”

Hunt stiffened for a moment before upending his coffee cup all over his sensible yet terribly ugly brown shoes. Jaime turned back to Tarth just as Hunt looked down and said, “What the hell?” 

Detective Tarth’s mouth dropped open. Jaime leaned back in the chair with a self-satisfied look on his face, but was startled when she stood and grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him out into the hallway.

“You can’t say you don’t believe me,” he grumbled behind her.

She stopped and whipped around. “You can’t just...tell me something like that! Now I know you can make anyone do anything you want? Do you understand the implications of that?”

“The implications in us solving this case are overwhelmingly positive.”

“ _Us_? No, there is no _us_! I am a detective with the KLPD, and you are…” She gestured up and down his body. “You. I can’t just bring you on to work with me on a case.”

“Cops work with civilians all the time! Consider me a consultant. Your guide to the shadowy underbelly of King’s Landing.”

Tarth crossed her arms, the anger in her face fading into mild irritation. 

Jaime took a gamble and continued. “And besides, don’t you want to show all those asshole men out there that you’re just as good, if not better, than them by solving a high-profile case in record time?” 

Jaime could almost hear the gears turning in her brain. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. 

“Fine. You can help me. _If_ you make yourself as inconspicuous as possible and stay out of the way of official police business.”

“Of course,” Jaime said in a serious tone, schooling his features even though they desperately wanted to arrange themselves into a smug smile. “So, where to first, partner? Ooh, do I get a badge? Or a gun?”

Detective Tarth closed her eyes and sighed, then turned and walked back to her desk, Jaime close on her heels.

“Oh, and now that we’re partners, please call me Jaime. Can I call you Brienne?”

She turned and glared. “First, we are not partners, and second, I have a feeling you’re going to call me that even if I say no.”

Jaime smiled. “Probably, yes.”

“Fine. Call me Brienne. But this relationship remains strictly professional.”

Jaime straightened his back and saluted. “Yes, detective.” He couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips when she rolled her eyes.

This was going to be more fun than he thought.

***

Over the next three days, Jaime and Brienne followed every lead they could think of, starting with Pia’s social circle. They found out she’d been quietly dating the lead singer of a rock band also represented by her management company, but he had a solid alibi and seemed so distraught that Jaime didn’t even have to persuade him to know he was telling the truth. 

They questioned everyone she counted as a friend or acquaintance, everyone she’d ever gone on one date with, and they all said the same thing - they had no idea who could want to hurt her.

Even though all their leads were coming up dead ends, Jaime found he enjoyed the work, liked using his powers toward a worthy cause, and even more, he liked watching _Brienne_ work. She was magnificent at her job, thorough and intense and smart as a whip. Her bright blue eyes sparkled when she found a new clue or a new thread to follow, and she had relaxed around Jaime to the point that she’d actually answer his questions with more than one-word answers. The view of her muscular thighs and ass striding purposefully in front of him didn’t hurt either. 

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she might like working with him, too. The fact that she was the only human who’d ever been immune to his powers began to not bother him so much as simply intrigue him. There was something special about her, no doubt about that.

Now that Pia’s social and romantic contacts had been bled dry of information, they moved on to her business contacts, starting with the manager Jaime had set her up with.

They pulled up to VMD Entertainment Group and walked into the gleaming lobby filled with finely dressed, insanely attractive people milling about. “You should probably do the talking,” Brienne muttered, her eyes darting uneasily around the space.

Jaime patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and led the way to the reception desk.

“Good afternoon,” he said to the handsome young man sitting there, whose nametag read ‘Jon.’ “I’m here to see Mr. Varys.”

The man, who’d been looking down at some papers, raised his head and did a double-take, straightening up and smiling broadly when he saw Jaime. He even fluttered his dark eyelashes a bit. “Do you have an appointment?” 

Jaime flashed his most compelling grin. “No, Jon, I don’t, but,” he laid his hand over top of the man’s, “you really want to let me and my partner up.”

Jon’s pupils dilated. “Of course.” He stood up and walked out from behind the desk, leading them to the elevator and swiping his keycard before pressing the button for the 24th floor. Then he shook his head and frowned, giving them a puzzled look as the doors slid shut. 

"Are you ever going to tell me how you can do that?" Brienne asked as they rode up. 

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.”

She just cocked her head and studied him curiously. It wasn’t loathing, as it had been in the beginning, which pleased him more than he expected.

The elevator opened to a small waiting room, where another receptionist was sitting behind a desk. Skipping any pleasantries, Jaime walked directly to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “You want to let me in to see Mr. Varys.”

She smiled blankly at him and stood, swinging open a heavy wooden door behind her and allowing Jaime and Brienne to walk through.

The manager sat behind his huge dark wood desk, as pale and round as a ball of bread dough, his deep-set eyes going wide when he saw them walk in. His features smoothed into his usual, unreadable expression after a split second, and he said in an unsettlingly high and quiet voice, “Jaime Lannister. It’s been quite a while. To what do I owe this...surprise visit?”

“You know why I’m here, Varys. Pia Hill.”

Varys’ face twisted into a caricature of sadness. “Terrible, awful tragedy. She was going to make me so much money.”

Jaime tried and failed to keep his voice even. “She was also a wonderful young woman who didn’t deserve to be murdered. I need to know what you know.”

Brienne placed a placating hand on Jaime’s arm and adopted a more soothing tone. “Mr. Varys. I’m detective Brienne Tarth with the King’s Landing PD. Can we ask you some questions about your business dealings with Ms. Hill?”

Jaime’s heart did a curious stutter when Brienne said _we_.

They sat in the two chairs in front of Varys’ desk that he had motioned to. 

“Mr. Varys,” Brienne began. “As you probably know, Pia Hill was murdered a few nights ago in the parking lot of Mr. Lannister’s club. Do you know why anyone would want to hurt her?”

Varys shook his head. “Everyone who worked with her loved her.”

“Who had you been working with recently?”

“Well, Petyr Baelish seemed to have a special affinity for her. I was really dreading telling him we weren’t going to be continuing our contract with him.”

Brienne leaned forward. “Who is Petyr Baelish?”

“A producer she’d been working with. Pia’s first single was produced by him. But after a few months she came to me and said she didn’t want to work with him anymore. She seemed quite rattled, actually.”

Brienne and Jaime looked at each other, their eyes sparking as they met. 

“Do you know why that might be?” Brienne asked, doing little to hide her interest.

“She didn’t exactly tell me, but by the way she was behaving, I assume that Baelish came on to her and she rejected him. He’s a great producer and has produced a lot of hit records for me, but his love of beautiful young women was not exactly a secret in the industry.”

“And did Baelish know you were trying to get out of your contract with him?” Brienne probed.

“We’d just had the preliminary conversations with our lawyer, but word gets around in this business. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d heard it through the grapevine.”

Brienne inhaled sharply. “Where can we find this Petyr Baelish?”

Varys wrote down an address and slid it across his desk to Brienne.

“Thank you, Mr. Varys.” She placed her card on his desk. “Please call me if you think of anything else.”

She rose quickly and Jaime followed, struggling to keep up with her long strides.

“I’m guessing you think this Baelish is a lead worth following up on?”

“The _only_ lead worth following up on. A jilted lover _and_ a lost business opportunity? Sounds like more than enough reason for him to want to kill her.”

They took the elevator down and walked out of the building, the excitement in Brienne’s body vibrating out and into Jaime’s. 

“We could check the security footage from the club that night, see if he was there,” Jaime said as they walked to her car. “Then we’ll have actual concrete evidence when we confront him.”

She turned and gave him the first real smile he’d seen from her, a luminous grin that stretched across her entire face and made Jaime feel warm all over. “Now you’re thinking like a detective, Jaime.”

They walked into the empty club and straight to Jaime’s office in the back, a small but well-appointed space with plush black leather chairs and a heavy wood desk and several abstract paintings hanging on the walls. He sat at his desk and Brienne leaned over behind him, her warm body pressing lightly against his shoulder. She smelled clean and slightly fruity, and he had to stop himself from taking a deep breath of her scent as he opened the file with the security recordings from the night of Pia’s murder.

Jaime had looked Petyr Baelish up online on the way to the club and had to laugh when he saw that the man looked much more like a caricature of a demon than Jaime did - thinning dark hair, bushy black eyebrows, beady eyes and a pointed beard. 

Jaime fast-forwarded to the time when Pia arrived and watched what would be his last-ever interaction with her. Brienne must have sensed his melancholy, because she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder until Jaime was out of view of the cameras again. 

They watched as Pia stayed and chatted with Peck for a few minutes before milling about the crowd, saying hi to a few friends and dancing a bit. Jaime scanned the crowd around her and gasped when he saw the man they were looking for - Baelish hovered at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze intent on Pia. 

“There he is,” Jaime pointed out to Brienne, and she leaned forward more, challenging his concentration with the press of her body against his, her grip tightening on the back of his chair.

Pia visibly blanched when she spotted Baelish, and tried to exit the dance floor in the opposite direction, but it was so crowded she didn’t get far before he caught up to her. He grabbed her elbow and said something in her ear, her face twisting in a look of disgust before smoothing over into an all-too-familiar mollifying smile. She whispered something to him, shaking her head, pulling her elbow from his grip. His eyes narrowed as he watched her part the crowd and head for the exit, waiting a few moments before following her out of the club. Jaime and Brienne watched the rest of the footage but didn’t see either of them again.

Jaime stood up quickly, pacing around his office. A rage welled up inside Jaime that he hadn’t felt since he’d left Hell, his body nearly shaking with it. “That rat bastard. It had to be him.”

Brienne placed a hand on his arm, her grip light but steady. “Jaime, I know it’s tempting to go in with guns blazing, but this is what’s called circumstantial evidence,” she said in a more level tone. “Now we know he was there, but we can’t prove anything yet. Let’s pay him a visit and hope he talks himself into a corner.”

Jaime looked into her calm blue eyes and took a deep breath, nodding and following her out to the car. 

Brienne turned the key and entered the address Varys had provided into her GPS. A familiar voice came through the speakers - Pia’s song was finishing up on the radio. 

“That was ‘Sweet Words’ by Pia Hill, who tragically passed away last week,” the DJ said. “Her first, and sadly last, single has rocketed up the charts this week, landing in the top 10 and still climbing.”

Brienne inhaled sharply and switched the radio off, looking over at Jaime with a face that revealed she’d put something together. 

“What?”

“The posthumous sales bump. Artists almost always sell more records after their deaths. And who benefits from those sales?”

“The producer,” Jaime followed.

“Yet another reason Baelish might have had to get rid of her. He knew he wasn’t going to be getting any more money out of her once she’d gotten out of their contract.”

Jaime’s blood was up, and the intensity radiating off Brienne had him shifting in his seat as they raced toward Baelish’s. He had to restrain himself from grabbing her hand where it rested on the gear shift between their seats. 

The parking lot of Littlefinger Studios was packed with flashy sports cars and huge SUVs. The lobby of the building was lined with silver, gold, and even a few Valyrian steel records in frames, as well as multiple statuettes on shelves and, most garishly, a bust of Petyr Baelish sitting on a small round table in the middle of the lobby. Jaime restrained himself from punching it in the face like he desperately wanted to and walked up to the reception desk.

Jaime noticed a red light and a “recording” sign lit up over the door leading from the lobby, so he knew they’d face some resistance in getting back there. He began to lean over to lay his hand on the woman’s arm, but Brienne stopped him. She took her badge out of her pocket and held it up in front of the woman’s face. “King’s Landing PD. We need to see Petyr Baelish.”

The woman’s eyes went wide and she looked with concern toward the red light above the door, then back to Brienne’s badge, then back to the door, but must have decided she didn’t want to risk getting on the bad side of the police. She pushed a button on her desk and the door buzzed, then clicked to unlock. Brienne thanked her and walked to the door.

She smirked at Jaime as she pulled the handle. “See? I can do it too.” Jaime chuckled, delighted at this sudden appearance of a wry sense of humor. 

Brienne and Jaime walked into the recording studio where two young men reclined on couches and Baelish sat in front of a huge mixing board, a pretty redhead in headphones behind the glass belting her heart out to some sappy love song.

One of the men rose and blocked their approach toward Baelish. “Hey, you can’t be in here. We’re recording.”

“I can see that. But we _can_ be in here,” Brienne said, flashing her badge again. The man backed away and sat down on the couch, eyeing them warily. 

Baelish spun around in his chair but remained sitting, his eyes flicking over Jaime and Brienne casually. He leaned over and spoke into a microphone on the mixing board, still looking at them. “Sansa, take a break,” he ordered, causing the redhead in the booth to stop in the middle of a note and give him a confused look. Sansa shrugged, removed the headphones and walked back into the control room, taking a seat on the couch nearest to Baelish and giving Jaime and Brienne a leery once-over.

“May I help you?” Baelish said, leaning back insouciantly in his chair. 

“Pia Hill,” Brienne said, clearly not volunteering any more information than was necessary.

Baelish rose. “Oh, yes, I heard. So sad,” he said, with little more feeling than if he’d been talking about the weather.

“You were at the Gold Lion the night she died.”

He scoffed. “Of course I was there. Half of King’s Landing was there. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about you following her out when she left? That makes you the last person to have seen her alive. Which _does_ mean something.” The commanding tone of Brienne’s voice sent an ill-timed coil of heat through Jaime’s body.

Baelish’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he looked back and forth between Jaime and Brienne. “You don’t have anything on me.”

“We also know you came on to her and she rejected you, _and_ she was trying to get out of her contract with you. Not to mention all the royalties you’re raking in from the sale of her single. That gives you quite the motive for murder, Mr. Baelish.”

Baelish’s jaw clenched and eyes narrowed before he grabbed Sansa’s elbow and wrenched her up off the couch at the same time as he pulled a gun out of the waistband of his pants. He held Sansa in front of him and pointed his gun at her temple, the woman’s face frozen in terror. 

“I made her,” Baelish growled. “Put so much effort into her, and I got nothing in return. She owed me.”

Brienne had pulled her gun a split second after Baelish took his out and was now holding it straight out in front of her, pointing it at him. “Women don’t owe you anything, Baelish. They don’t owe you sex and they certainly don’t owe you their lives.”

Baelish tightened his grip on Sansa, a choked sob escaping from her. “If you don’t let me go I swear I’ll shoot her. I am not going to jail for that bitch.”

Jaime stepped toward Baelish then, causing him to take his gun from Sansa’s head and point it at Jaime. “No, you’re not going to jail. You’re going somewhere far worse. And I’m going to personally see to it that you get the royal treatment.”

“Jaime, what are you doing?” Brienne yelled from behind him, trying to step around him to keep her gun trained on Baelish.

“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt me,” he said, piercing Baelish with his most devilish stare.

Baelish pulled the trigger, the sound deafening in the small space. Sansa screamed and ducked out of his grasp to lay on the floor with her arms over her head.

Jaime used his superior senses to sidestep the bullet, which lodged in the wall behind him. Fortunately the other people in the room had cleared out when guns had been drawn. Brienne fired then, one shot to Baelish’s head, dropping him immediately, but not before he got one more shot off. 

Brienne cried out, fell to her knees and clutched her side. 

Jaime felt the blood drain from his face. “Brienne!” He ran to her and knelt down beside her. 

Brienne groaned and ripped her shirt open, revealing a bullet-proof vest. She unfastened it and threw it to the side, rubbing her ribs through her white tank top.

“Ugh, that hurts like a bitch every time,” she muttered, and Jaime felt so relieved that a flood of giddy laughter bubbled out of him.

Brienne furrowed her brow and looked up at him. “What?” she asked, her face so open and her eyes so dazzling that he was overcome with emotion. Before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning toward her and kissing her. 

Brienne let out a little sound of surprise when their lips met, but she didn’t push him away. Jaime pulled back, his eyes wide and face undoubtedly flushed, and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I don’t–” just as she said, “What was–” 

They both laughed before Brienne’s gaze dropped down to his lips. Jaime thought she might kiss him again when they were startled by someone’s throat clearing. They looked up and saw Sansa standing in the doorway with a phone in her hand. 

“I called the police,” she said, still looking slightly dazed, the statement sounding more like a question. 

Brienne gingerly rose to her feet. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Sansa. You did very well.”

The young woman nodded and walked back out to the lobby with Brienne. 

Jaime stayed behind and looked over at Baelish’s body lying face-up on the now-bloody carpet. As much as he had been looking forward to punishing Baelish himself, he found that he didn’t want to risk going back to Hell and getting stuck there. He had too much here worth staying for.

Jaime walked out to the parking lot where Brienne was talking to the various police and investigators that had shown up to the scene. She turned over her weapon and got checked out by the EMTs in the ambulance, coming out with a bandage wrapped around her ribs peeking out from under her ripped shirt. She waited until the body was loaded into the ambulance and the rest of the witnesses and most of the other cops were cleared away before approaching Jaime again.

“What’s the damage?” Jaime asked when she walked up to the car, where he was leaning and waiting for her. 

“Just some bruised ribs. They said I need to take it easy for a few days.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not one to take it easy?”

She laughed and looked down at her shoes, then back up at Jaime, her blue eyes boring into where his soul should be. “You kissed me,” she stated. She didn’t sound angry, just curious or maybe slightly confused. 

“I did. I’m sorry if it was presumptuous of me–” 

Brienne cut off his words, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him in for another, deeper kiss. Jaime cupped her face and tilted his head, coaxing her mouth open and sliding his tongue softly along hers, every nerve ending in his body setting alight. 

Brienne sighed and slid her hands down to his back, pulling him tighter against her, then huffed out an “ow” when she was reminded of her bruised ribs. Jaime smiled against her mouth and broke away, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re supposed to take it easy, remember?”

“I don’t know how to do that, remember? Maybe I need someone to nurse me back to health.” Her eyes sparkled as she joked, and he decided that of everything he’d seen in his existence, they would be the most unforgettable. 

When they got back in the car, he _did_ grab her hand, a comforting warmth flooding through him. He’d see to Baelish’s punishment later, from afar, but right now, all he wanted was to bask in the glow of Brienne. If Cersei were here, she would undoubtedly ask him what had gotten into him. 

He was sure now that it was not a _what_ , but a _who_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to sdwolfpup for betaing, and for reassuring me it was “surprisingly cute for how much murder it had” lol
> 
> ILB - sorry for being so cagey about this but now you know why I couldn’t talk to you about it 😆 It has been a delight getting to know you over the past few months and I am so happy I got to do this for you!


End file.
